Yup, gentle with a guilty conscience. Some fair amount of self-hatred too, but that was expected from someone like Eliot, wasn't it?
"I'm always a little good boy." he lies shamelessly. That said, he has no intention of denying Eliot his cigarettes. That amount of drinking though, is not healthy. Not that Jean plans to comment on it. Considering how his head is turning, that would be more than a little hypocritical.
Instead, he comments on the small miracle just in front of them.
"We used to have tables just like this when my mother wanted to celebrate something. Truth is, she always found some cause for celebration. Or maybe that was just her excuse to have nice dinners with her family. Drove my dad a little desperate, though. All the dishwashing. So Lotta and I would help him, which usually involved breaking some dishes, since she was too small to know better. I guess most of our fancy dinners ended up with broken shards on the kitchen floor and my dad stepping outside for a smoke. Didn't stop any of us from looking forward to the next time, though."
He goes straight for the bruschetta. It's so perfect he feels like he's about to shed some tears over it, even if his face remains nearly as expressionless as usual.
no subject
"I'm always a little good boy." he lies shamelessly. That said, he has no intention of denying Eliot his cigarettes. That amount of drinking though, is not healthy. Not that Jean plans to comment on it. Considering how his head is turning, that would be more than a little hypocritical.
Instead, he comments on the small miracle just in front of them.
"We used to have tables just like this when my mother wanted to celebrate something. Truth is, she always found some cause for celebration. Or maybe that was just her excuse to have nice dinners with her family. Drove my dad a little desperate, though. All the dishwashing. So Lotta and I would help him, which usually involved breaking some dishes, since she was too small to know better. I guess most of our fancy dinners ended up with broken shards on the kitchen floor and my dad stepping outside for a smoke. Didn't stop any of us from looking forward to the next time, though."
He goes straight for the bruschetta. It's so perfect he feels like he's about to shed some tears over it, even if his face remains nearly as expressionless as usual.
"Oh."
Eliot is a real magician.